


A Vested Interest

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:38:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim buys Sebastian a vest. He's very excited for his tiger to wear it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Vested Interest

“Sebastian,” Jim drawled one day, flopping his head over to the side to stare at him. “Your wardrobe is severely lacking. We need to go shopping.”  
Seb looked up, a little startled, from the book that he was reading. “What?” he said. “My clothes are fine, Jim. I have the one suit for when I need it and the rest of my clothes for my work. What do I need more clothes for?”  
Jim huffed out a breath. “You need to look more professional when you go out in my name, Tiger,” he said. “You’re representing my name. It’s a company at this point. You’re showing off a brand.”  
Seb curled up his mouth in displeasure. “Fine,” he said, standing and stretching out his long body, his shirt riding up to expose a thin swatch of tan, muscular stomach. Jim observed that skin hungrily, licking his lips rather distractedly. He could deal with /that/ later. Right now there was work to be done.   
He stood and yawned, walking over and hugging Sebastian’s waist, burying his face in the sniper’s shirt and inhaling deeply. He loved the scent of his tiger, soap and gunpowder and something warm and safe and /Sebastian/. He loved it; it was one of the things he missed most when one of them had to leave the other for business or something else.   
Jim took his hand and led him to the car, snapping his fingers at the driver. The silent man (an employee of Jim’s) drove them to Jim’s favourite shop, and Jim pulled the sniper from the car eagerly. “Come on Sebby, you’re going to look so pretty!” he chirped happily.   
Seb smiled despite himself. Though he wasn’t particularly eager for the idea of shopping, Jim’s enthusiasm was infectious sometimes and he leaned down to drop a kiss in the little Irishman’s hair. Jim grinned in response.   
They wandered through the store for a while, Jim pulling off item after item for the sniper to try. There were shirts, pants, shoes, jackets, suits- it was dizzying and soon Seb’s arms were hurting from the actual weight of the fabric.   
“Jim!” he complained, unable to help the whining tone in his voice. “I had no idea that shopping for clothes was a bloody Olympic sport.”   
Jim snorted. “You understand my pain now, don’t you love?” he murmured, completely ignoring Sebastian’s whining. “Ooh, how do this look to you, tiger?” he asked, pulled a truly gorgeous vest from a rack set off to the side.   
Seb’s eyes widened a little. The thing was beautiful: black, slim cut, with a stunningly ornate red scrolling floral pattern all over it. Six shining silver buttons adorned the front, and a large notched lapel graced the top. Sebastian could imagine how those would lay across his broad chest. He set the clothes in his arms down on a table and reached out, running his calloused fingers over the fabric. Damask, said the label. Damn. He pulled it from the rack and tugged it on over his black button up shirt. He fastened the buttons, standing rather sheepishly in front of Jim. “What do you think?” he asked.   
Jim’s mouth watered a little at the sight of his sniper, his tiger in such a /pretty/ vest. He ran his hands over it, smoothing it over the curve of Seb’s waist, so attractively accentuated in this. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” he said sincerely. “It’s really really lovely.”  
Sebastian smiled. “I like it too,” he said, grinning. Maybe shopping wasn’t so bad. “So that’s one thing we definitely agree on, yeah?”  
Jim nodded. “Definitely. Let’s get on home, okay?”  
The sniper nodded with a small sigh. Organising all of these clothes in his little closet was going to be such a pain in the arse. He took off the vest and added it to the large pile of clothes like the proverbial cherry on top.   
The master criminal looped his arm with Seb’s, nearly skipping as he paid for the clothes and swung the bags happily from his arms, tossing them carelessly in the boot of the car and snapping his fingers again at the driver to take them home. He curled up in the backseat with Sebastian, resting his head against the larger man’s chest.   
Seb put a hand in his lover’s hair automatically, stroking the soft black strands. Jim started purring almost as a matter of course. Sebastian smiled. “I always knew there was a reason I called you kitten,” he murmured. Jim only grinned, imagining all the outfits he could design for Sebastian, how lovely he would look in all those trim cut suits, the pressed shirts over the planes of his muscular chest. He hummed happily.   
Seb had no idea what he’d done, but he’d managed to really piss off Jim now. He’d come home from a successful job, just like he always did and smiled, attempting to cheerfully greet his lover, just like always. But instead of the greeting hug and kiss that he usually received, he got a throwing knife quivering in the wall less than six inches from his head.   
Seb called out a warning. “Hey!” he barked. “Careful where you toss those! What the fuck did I even do?!” He stormed into the living room, dodging another throwing knife carelessly flung near his head. He glared at Jim.   
The Irishman was sitting curled up in his armchair, nursing a large glass of whiskey. Seb sighed. Jim was drunk, again. He got very dangerous when he was drunk, no inhibitions. Shit. He sighed and dropped his gun bag on the clear patch of floor by the door set aside for his dirty shoes and things to avoid soiling Jim’s pristine white carpets and further incurring his wrath. He untied his shoes and set them neatly against the wall, tucking his socks inside. “I’m going to bed,” he announced. “I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that, he padded back to his old room, the one he’d slept in before Jim had decided that Sebastian needed to sleep in the same bed with him every night. Jim would never admit it, but he couldn’t sleep without his tiger next to him anymore, guarding and keeping him warm and safe through the night.   
Seb collapsed on the bed, exhausted. He was tired after a long hit and he only wanted to sleep. But though he’d never vocalise it either, he’d grown used to Jim’s little body, warm against his front as he slept. The bed felt cold and lonely without him there. He sighed and turned over under the duvet, closing his eyes. After nearly half an hour of tossing and turning, he finally let his exhaustion overwhelm him and he passed out.   
When he awoke several hours later, he could hear Jim’s keyboard through the door, tapping away furiously. He lay in bed for a few moments, thinking of how he could make this up to Jim. Suddenly, an evil thought came to him and he rose from the mattress with new purpose. He snuck back into their shared room, where his clothes were kept. He pulled on the vest they’d bought not long ago, the beautiful thing with the red that so reminded both of them of the blood they dealt with on such a daily basis. He shed the rest of his clothes, leaving him in just the vest and the tightest pair of black briefs he owned. He had the somewhat amusing thought that this was their version of sexy lingerie. He snickered a little despite himself. He had calculated that Jim should be good and sober already and therefore receptive to this. He would feel like an absolute idiot if he did this and Jim just laughed at him, or worse, didn’t respond.   
He made his way out into the living room and knocked softly against the doorframe. “Jim?” he called softly. “Kitten? I-“   
Jim looked up and his already dark eyes turned absolutely black with lust. Seb looked so goddamn delicious, like a fucking /feast/ in those clothes. The vest accented his honestly delicious in a paper sack chest and those little black pants? Good god. He shot to his feet, a bit dizzy from the alcohol still in his system, but he was still perfectly lucid and capable of walking steadily. He walked over, swinging his hips a little in his typical flirtatious fashion. He settled his hands in the small curve of Sebastian’s waist, looking up at him. “Sebby,” he said very seriously. “You look like the most absolutely delicious in these clothes.”  
Seb let out a small breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “Good,” he said with a little weak smile. “I thought you might like it. I wasn’t sure... what I did to upset you, but this is my apology.”   
“Apology accepted,” Jim said immediately. “Jesus Christ, I should get mad at you more often if you’re going to apologise like /this/...”  
Seb chuckled a little. “Please don’t, love,” he said, leaning down to kiss Jim deeply. “I’m not really generally pleased with knives being thrown at my head. What did I do to incur your anger, just out of curiosity?”  
Jim bit his lip. “Nothing, really,” he said. “I was just upset at a client, and drunk. I am sorry, Tiger. I never would have really hit you.”  
Seb had to nod, acknowledging the point. Even when absolutely smashed, Jim had perfect aim with his knives.   
Jim smoothed his hands over the front of Seb’s chest, feeling the smooth material and Seb’s silky, and yet scarred skin in the most amazing blend. His eyes fluttered, drawing in a slow breath through his nose. “Tiger,” he said calmly. “You are going to take me back to bed now, and we are going to have hot, amazing sex after you take off that vest, because to spoil it would be a crime against humanity that even I am not comfortable committing.”  
Seb smiles slowly. “Sir yes sir,” he replied, scooping Jim into his arms and carrying him off to bed, kicking the door shut behind him. His apology, it seemed, was well and truly accepted.


End file.
